


Raise Me One

by helena_s_renn



Series: Play the Game [4]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dubious Morality, Family Issues, Future Fic, M/M, Panties, Sex for Favors, controlling parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-19
Updated: 2013-11-19
Packaged: 2018-01-02 01:15:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1050783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helena_s_renn/pseuds/helena_s_renn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen unexpectedly brings his family and his issues, which wasn't his idea, and something else under his jeans, which is. Jared *cough* shows him the garage again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Raise Me One

**Author's Note:**

> Immediately follows Part 3. The overall concept is that Jared pays big bucks for sexual favors to those of his choosing. He's very much doing what he's being accused of. Why the hell not?? Jensen needs the cash.  
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: This fic should be read as what it is: Fiction. I don't know the A's or the P's or anything about their family life, interpersonal relationships, or financial status. 
> 
> Additional warning for some religious overtones (fundamentalist-type Christianity), and derision in that general direction. 
> 
> Beta by Christian.Howe. Any remaining mistakes are mine.

The three Ackles kids ranged in age from two to five years old: blond, green-eyed and freckled. Two girls and a boy, three little clones dressed in color-coordinated outfits. Their names all started with the letter "J". Jared wondered whose brilliant idea the name alliteration thing had been, and whose idea to bring children to a gathering where words highly inappropriate to their ears might be exchanged. He'd heard this was the way it went down from film sets to producers' offices, a passive-aggressive method of keeping whoever stood on the wrong side of the Ackles constituency from getting too heated. 

The kids were innocent. Donna and Alan Ackles, not so much. Jared suspected that the tactic and whatever nasty accusations were about to fly were theirs. 

"Gen," he said pleasantly, once all the greetings and reintroductions had dribbled to a close. "Why don't you take the kids down to the toy room to meet ours? JJ might even remember Thomas." He didn't have to tell her to come back, if and when she could. Whatever shit was about to hit the fan, Jared wouldn't have any problems deflecting it but, he well recognized, the whole 'married with kids' thing carried a certain weight - and responsibility - of its own. As protective as he felt, wanting to stand growling between his own and ‘them’, Gen hated that approach – she could defend herself just fine. 

It hit him, tendrils of what he’d have to do in regard to his and Jensen's arrangement, wisps of ideas twisting into the strength of rope: Deny. Every bit of it. Be so convincing that the controlling senior Ackles pair and the highly suspicious human lie detector Jensen was married to were all eating out of his hand. 

They settled in the living room. Danneel, in a skirt so short he had to look away to avoid the sight of her peppermint-pink underwear, perched on the edge of an oversized couch and pulled a folded newsprint page from a popular tabloid out of her oversized red leather purse. "'A disheveled Jensen Ackles, leaving the home of former co-star Jared Padalecki Tuesday afternoon'," she read, high-pitched honey-cigarette voice pinched. "Leaving. Or sneaking out. He never told me he came here." 

_'He came here alright.'"_ It took every ounce of Jared's control to stifle that little tidbit, as well as exactly where, how much, and how hard. Feigning interest, he kept his eyeline at an appropriate height and glanced at the grainy reprint. ‘Disheveled.’ No one else could see what Jared knew in reality, that Jensen’s underwear had been inside out, now wouldn’t that have made an interest-snagging caption?

"We don't want any negative media attention. For Jensen. Or the family," Alan Ackles added, clearly warming up for a longer spiel. 

Jared decided to let him say his piece. Still, he couldn't help asking, tone mild, "Of course not. Negative how?"

Both Donna’s and Alan's heads tilted slightly, so much a mirror of each other it looked choreographed. "Jared, honey," thick Southern charm oozed from Donna's mouth. "We're not entirely... ignorant."

 _"'Oh, but you are,'"_ Jared thought, but choked that back, too. He quirked his eyebrows in the way that made his forehead wrinkle up in the middle, purposefully dumbing himself down. The quizzical monkey-man look. 

"Well, Jared," continued Alan, hands steepled under his chin, "you've become very famous in these last few years, and the studios are paying you top dollar, I'm sure. You're right up there with Robert Downey, Jr. and Christian Bale." Just the slightest cold edge in his voice broadcast his censure. 

Wanting to laugh, Jared retorted, "Nah, not even close."

"It's been said," Alan's tone became ponderous, and Jared deliberately cut his eyes at Jensen, eyebrows raised in a 'what the fuck?' before returning his attention to the man's father, "...that you're, ah, how do I say this nicely? That you aren't satisfied in your marriage bed, so you fulfill your unnatural lusts elsewhere. With men."

The sheer ludicrousness of the statement, the wording, made Jared burst out laughing. "You call that saying it nicely?”

Danneel supplied, "Not just with men - with actors. Ruined ones." 

“You mean like your friend Chad?” Jared inquired sweetly. “Last I heard, he’s still your friend, too.” Danneel’s nostrils flared, and her lower lip jutted like a two-year-old’s on the verge of a full-on tantrum. 

“It’s below us all to discuss the licentious nature of that, that... _man_ ,” Alan hissed.

Jared tried not to roll on the floor. Much. “Not that it's any of your business, but I'm plenty satisfied, thank you very much. Or, thank Gen, when you see her next." They didn't need to know his exact context. 

The two older Ackles exchanged a glance. Jensen and Danneel remained on opposite sides of the room and didn't even acknowledge each other's presence, which Jared found really strange. 

"Jensen's welcome here anytime. Y'all are." He smiled wide, ingenuous, letting his teeth and dimples flash. No one could quite argue with that. "Okay, then. Now how about I grill? Got some nice ribeyes thawing." Sidetrack them, feed them, and kill 'em with kindness, like his Momma used to say. And then show them the fucking door - that's what Jared said. He set his mind to the afternoon-long charade. 

.....

Afternoon, and then some. Alan tried almost immediately to corner him in front of the grill. This one, he could easily out-stubborn. Jared replied vaguely to his not-so-subtle queries that he’d been pleased when Jensen sought his friendship again after a couple of years of being out of touch.

Reading people’s body language, one thing which made him such a good mimic and which Jared excelled at but sometimes wished he didn’t, told him when Donna had worked up her nerve. Steeling himself, Jared lowered his voice to sonic boom, met her eyes, and flirted so outrageously he should have been the one blushing and stammering and “land sakes, honey child”-ing. If Jared had had any interest in ‘acquiring’ the female version of silver fox, he’d have just tripped over a prime candidate. For all the ‘but I’m a lady’ protestations, some inkling of what he considered Alan’s control issues dawned on him. And then his beautiful son... her spitting imagine... An especially blatant flick of his tongue sent Donna running back to her husband. He couldn't hear it, but Jared knew that Gen, watching intermittently across the yard from the corner of one eye, got in a good snort or two over his antics. 

Danneel, thank god, only grilled him on work-related subjects, which was actually refreshing. She and Gen seemed to be getting along alright. They’d spent chunks of time together in the past, and had had at least a superficial relationship. 

What he couldn't understand was why Jensen wouldn't say a damned thing to him. Helping him flip steaks and burgers was one thing; acknowledging more than his mere existence with a word, a touch, meeting his eyes... another. 

Gritting his teeth, he nodded permission for Alan to bless the food ‘to the nourishment of our bodies’, ‘the hands that prepared it’ and all the tenets he’d heard before a hundred times but that had never grated on him like they did today.

.... 

"Jay..." 

"Huh?" Jared rooted around in the fridge, trying to scrape up something resembling dessert, distracted. Something kids would eat, wasn’t a billion calories, that the older generation wouldn’t fuss about being 'too rich', not sickeningly sweet--

Then he was no longer elbow-deep in the fruit bin. Peaches and mangoes still gripped in his paws, Jared found himself standing, the top of his head having narrowly missed the fridge’s inside roof. Jensen pulled him upright with one hand fisted in the back of Jared's shirt. 

"Please..." 

The hand against his shoulder blade moved higher, flattened out; fingers curled around the nape of his neck, under his hair. Jared shuddered as bolts of electric heat shot from the point of contact through his belly and lower. 

"Huh?" he repeated, only this time, the tone bore a heaviness that was more to prevent himself from turning around and either decking or kissing Jensen than ask a question.

“Now you see what I deal with.” 

“You’re so fucking whipped.” 

After a quick, shallow intake of breath, Jensen pressed out, “Maybe that’s what you want someday soon?”

“Jensen, please... not now. We’ll talk another time.” 

"Thank you." Barely more than a whisper, the breathed-out words touched his ears. Jensen slid around his left side, warm and solid. The fridge door hung open yet, shielding their bodies. Its blast of chilled air cooled Jared's front. 

"You're nipped out," Jensen whispered against his neck. His hand crept down the dip in the center of Jared's back to the level of his lowest rib, then around his side. Those thick fingers were still almost a foot away and Jared’s nipple stiffened to the point it nearly pinged off his chest like a rogue Tiddly-Wink. 

"Yeah," Jared whispered before he could bite it back. He wished to god he didn't have to, but all kinds of things were at risk. “Step off!" he spat.

In less than a second, Jensen was five feet away from him, backed up against the counter opposite, eyes and pupils huge. By the way his mouth moved, Jared could tell he was trying to say, "Dude," in protest. What came out was, "Why?"

"Is this a game to you?!"

Jensen's eyebrows furrowed. "It is to you. Just one big game." 

"Uh, yeah. I can afford it, monetarily and otherwise. How about you, huh?" 

"So what if I offer..." Jensen plowed on as if Jared hadn't spoken, reaching for his belt buckle. 

"What the hell are you doing? Are you insane?!" Through the window behind Jensen, its blind pulled all the way up, Jared could see their children playing in the yard. Green grass, sunshine, wooden swing set: Americana at its finest.

"No." Now Jared couldn’t help but fixate on Jensen's fingers, working open the steel pin from black leather. "I just need to show you something." He popped the button on the waistband of his faded jeans but no more. That gave him enough space to lower the left side past the hollow of his hip, showing nothing but pale, freckled skin. For a second, Jared assumed he was going commando. Then he saw the black lace band in the shadow. 

"...the fuck?!" Jared coughed, breath gone. And then, "Whose are those - your wife's?" 

"No. Mine," Jensen whispered, 100 percent dead serious. "For... For us. For this." 

"Jesus Christ, your timing sucks." Jared didn't like the desperation in his own voice. His groin thudded, thundered, vessels flooded. "And, you're presuming - which is something I don't pay for." He could barely get the words out, or set the organically grown fruit still in his grip down gently. Fuck. Two of the peaches were mash.

"Well, it's been a couple weeks. You've mentioned this at least once," Jensen stuck his thumb through the half-inch wide band and stretched it a little, let it snap back against his hip, and did up his belt buckle in two seconds. "So yeah, I... I thought... Okay, maybe I should have asked first but I didn't know this was going to go down today so there was no time and--" 

Forget the fingers, Jared’s attention had been stuck to the area he’d been more or less face-planted in with that little display, trying to figure out if it was just him or if Jensen was horned up, but then the meaning of the badly-camouflaged words filtered in.

"Wait a minute. Go down 'today'? You knew your family was going to home-invade me and you couldn't give me even a hint?" Now Jared was pissed. "What kind of high school bullshit is this, anyway? You're a grown man!" To that end, he moved in close, whipped his hand across and grabbed Jensen by the balls, through heavy denim and... Dammit, now he knew what was underneath and why it was so slippery. So did his dick. "Huh?" 

Jensen squeaked. "Stop!" he wheezed. 

"Or what, you'll get hard?" Oh yeah, there was that blush again. Jared cocked an eyebrow. "You like pain?" 

"No!" Jensen's eyelids fluttered like he was on the verge of cumming or passing out. His tongue flicked out in slow motion to wet his lips. 

"What then, you wanted to play with the idea of being caught?" The not-so-innocent look he got told Jared he was dead on. "There's a lot more at stake here than the clap or someone getting knocked up - and I say that for your sake. Gen’s fully aware of what I do."

"Fuck it!"

"That's what you say now..." Darting his eyes to the four corners first, Jared hauled Jensen out the back door, no easy task since the man wasn't small - he was muscular and clumsy with all his leashed-up needs. There in the dim garage, Jared held him bodily, face-first against the wall, kicked his feet apart, and reached around him. Jensen shuddered and moaned. "Keep quiet!" Jared hissed. "I hope you can get off in under two minutes because that's more than what we have." 

He loosened Jensen's belt and unzipped his fly. Reaching in, down, Jared pressed his chest hard against the broad back, the shifting trapezius, to keep Jensen, who still lurched hard enough to thump the wall when Jared touched his cock though the sheer fabric, from bucking. It surged under his hand, wetness spreading. Jared gave the rapidly expanding heft of it a few languid rubs, till the panties strained to contain the bulk of it. When the head poked out over the elastic at the top, Jared pulled at the fabric and tucked it back under. 

“Hey,” Jensen huffed as he strained to fuck against the hand on him. “Don’t rip them!”

“Show me! Let me see you,” Jared demanded, backing up half a step. Twisting around, Jensen stared up at him, stood still wide-eyed and let himself be eyefucked, the barely-visible wet mesh straining around his erection, light brown curls flattened inside, balls dragging down against the stretched material below. Jared rucked up Jensen's generic white button-down under his arms. "Damn, Jensen, just like I remembered." He bent just enough to suck one pink little nipple, the left, into his mouth; the areola contracted under his tongue, already pebbled center so flickable. Three or four licks and Jared could no longer control his urge. The sugary musk of the tiny nub on his tongue kicking a previously untapped oral fixation into overdrive, he sucked down hard and nipped till his teeth set...

"No marks!" 

Shit, Jensen was right. Jared groaned and forced his quarry to face the wall again. "I suppose you expect payment for this." Circling his thumb, he pressed the underside of the flared head through the mesh and tapped the frenulum. Thump! Hands and everything else full, Jared braced his feet, pushed with his chest and hips, made himself a human cage. And he nuzzled the back of Jensen's neck with the so-short hair above in a neat line, bared and vulnerable.

"Mmph! Get your tongue out of my ear, sick-o." 

Jared obliged, but he didn't miss all the tiny, soft hairs on Jensen's arms raise straight up. “Just look at you, come over here offering yourself with your junk all wrapped up pretty. You want it bad, don’t you? Any little thing, any touch from me.” In rapid, uneven little finger-spanks, he wrung the trapped heat, trapped in so many ways, that was Jensen. 

Fingernails dug into his drywall. "'s what we do, right?" 

"I should send you home empty-handed with your panties full of jizz." He fondled that quivering dick like he had all the time in the world, catching at the round, dewy head with his thumb. It fit so perfectly into his palm, across the life-head-heart lines.

"I... don’t! One of us needs to, uhm. The mess..." 

The light shifted, a cloud over the sun. Jensen's breath hitched as Jared pushed down further, handling the balls he'd squeezed too hard just minutes ago with exquisite tenderness. It had to be excruciating, the contrast. He hoped it made Jensen cry one of his man-tears.

"Oh. So you don't want to have to face them with a huge telling wet spot decorating your crotch? Well, neither do I. So. I'll take care of you, just like this, and you can slurp your own sperm from out of my hand," Jensen shuddered hard, "then you can get on your knees." He gave Jensen a second to comprehend, all the while moving along with his rapid panting as his ribs rose and fell, and toying with his balls. "Yeah?"

"...I don’t know if I can."

Infusing a damning undertone of inadequacy, Jared demanded, “Well then, what _can_ you do?”

The ribs under his chest expanded outward as Jensen grabbed another shuddering breath. “I’ll blow you. Just not... not my own.” 

"What, really?” Jared snorted. “Grow up. Anyway, you'll have to take a check. That’s what you get for showing up on Sunday. The Lord’s day." That was enough to make even Jared uncomfortable.

Jensen had other concerns. "Is it gonna bounce?" 

"Oh man, you suck!" 

“Not yet.”

His hands became sensors, sending cold-hot, soft-hard, dry-wet signals. Rubbing his erection against Jensen’s ass, Jared didn’t have to more than stroke the pulsating flesh behind sheer mesh. It grew thicker, harder, Jensen choking down little grunts and hissing through his nose. 

“One of these days,” Jared whispered, “you’re gonna find yourself with your virgin ass in the air, and I’m gonna lick you out till you beg.”

“What, that I want your dick?” Hypothetical question or not, the words ran rampant through Jared’s brain. Pre-come oozed from his slit, itching its trapped heat between his zipper and his scratchy treasure trail. He shoved his other hand down the back of Jensen’s jeans, over his ass cheeks, between, index finger on a mission.

“No...!” Jensen protested, yet he didn’t clench or back away, only flinched once.

“Oh, yes... God yeah, you little fucker. Wanna fuck you so bad.”

Little needy, broken noises rose in Jensen's throat when Jared found and petted the tightly furled rim turned to hitched, heated whispers. “You’re gonna be... good for me, too, when I roll you on your back, spread those long legs around me, slide it into you and fucking take you till you scream my name...!” 

“...Jensen...”

One man to another, he could feel how close Jensen was. “Not a sound!” Jared cautioned. At the last possible second, as Jensen whined frantically, Jared whipped his cupped palm upwards, then dove into the panties around the sticky cockhead and caught the spurting warm spunk. Through it, he humped hard against Jensen's ass, pushing them both into the rhythmically groaning wall-boards. 

Pressure ignited his tightened glands, the dire need to release his seed. He wiped his hand on the wall. "Down! Knees!" 

The look of doubt crossing Jensen's face, widening his eyes, did things to Jared's libido he didn't think were still possible. He put his hands on those shoulders and shoved his boy down, grabbing what short hair he could grasp with one hand and fumbling at his fly with the other. 

After that, he didn’t look at him. The fantasy tended to far outshine reality, that was one thing he’d learned from his exploits. Jensen hadn’t specifically said he had never sucked a cock, and Jared refused to believe that before he was singled out from the thousands in the underbelly of the beast called film industry, the 19-year old wide-eyed innocent he’d been in his first LA photo shoot had resisted every single offer. Unless already Hollywood royalty, and neither of them could claim to have been anything but dewy-fresh Texas boys, cute but with god-awful twangs and lack of perfect symmetry, one just didn’t get a foot in the door without a round or ten around the casting couch. Jensen hadn’t become a grip, or an extra, or at worst, a waiter-slash-rent boy; he was talented. Until the recent run of bad luck, he’d been one of the lucky few. 

But those early necessary dues-paying moments would have been fifteen years, twenty years past, and Jensen’s inexperience now in retrospect made him good as a one-man cum dumpster but not much more. Jared had plenty of that to give him, with no time to teach any negligible skills. Not today.

“Open your mouth, Jensen.” One quick glance down told him where the lips parted, and he infiltrated, grinding into the inner warmth, the spit, forcing soft friction from tongue and tonsils. Ignoring the gagging noises, Jared helped the process by jacking himself, base to lips and back speeding in the increased worry of discovery. 

Far too fast, Jared let himself spike, hit the peak hard and start to come. His load had backed up, agonizing, burning, in the ductwork. Four, five shots heaved forth. When he heard more struggles from below, Jared grinned nastily up at the ceiling. “Swallow it all,” he growled. With limited success, the pillow-soft lips stayed sealed around him, taking in his essence. 

Aware of how perilous their situation was right then, already gone too long, Jared moved away. He really had nothing to say; he could only nod. This had been, for all the flash, splash, and dirty talk, far more impersonal than the previous encounter. Jared found he hated that. He hated Jensen a little, too. 

Green eyes alight, cautious, slitted to almost almond shaped, Jensen stood to his full height. Cute, how he stared up at Jared expectantly like he wanted to be on equal footing now. 

“What? My checkbook’s in the house.” 

Jensen showed him his tongue, and half his load. “Kiss me.” Lips swollen from earlier glistened, glossy with spit and cum.

The bottom dropped out and Jared blinked. 

“What, don’t like the taste of your own?” 

“I’m not squeamish. I’ve had the taste of my own ass fed to me plenty of times.” Speaking of, Jensen’s scent was all over him. Peaches and cum. No way was he going within ten feet of anyone out there, like that.

“Then...?”

“It’s a line. Do you really want to cross it? It’s not a good idea, not for you.” 

“Let me tell you what I need, Jared. Money, yeah, sure. And I need...” Jensen swallowed, deliberate. “I haven’t made love to my wife in five years. I fuck her, when she’ll let me, which is once in a blue moon when she doesn’t have a headache, she’s not on the rag, not pregnant, the kids are asleep, it’s the nanny’s night off and she hasn’t passed out from whatever pills they keep giving her. And, if she’s willing to accept my body touching her... I think she hates it.”

“Quite a list of grievances. Unhappy in your marriage bed, eh?” Jared sneered. “Well, so, beat off. Spill your seed upon the ground.” 

“I need... I’m trying to tell you is, if she’s not into it, I don’t care about just... getting off on her body.”

“Divorce her, then. No offense man but... ‘accept your body touching her’...? What the hell's wrong with her?” Jared couldn’t help but be incredulous over that. Jensen had been millions of women’s – and men’s – wet dream for years, and his own wife was repulsed by him?

“Literally? No one’s really sure. But, um, thanks. I guess.” 

“And yet, you keep paying for her rehab and shrinks and all. Like I said...” 

“No. I made promises. Just like you did.” Unconsciously, Jensen reached up, touching his left breast through his shirt.

“And so far, everything I ever promised, and that Gen promised, between ourselves, we’ve held to. I get it. You don’t want a master, or just some freak who pays you for sex... you’re asking me to ‘make love’ with you,” Jared couldn’t keep the distaste from his voice. Didn’t even try. “’Cuz that’s what you need. What you’re lacking in your life. Did I not... was I not up front about what goes on here? I told you... I showed you.”

“You orgasmed all over yourself, crying my name.” 

“Got to you, didn’t it?” Jared smirked. No way was he going to acknowledge how it had gotten away from him, when it should have been nothing but acting. Not on a day like this.

Face pained, Jensen whispered, “It had to mean something...” He didn’t ask again. Fast as he’d once been, still was, the display of strength and speed tugging like a hook in Jared’s belly, he spun Jared into the side of his truck, and fitted his lips to Jared’s, not breaking the stare he’d initiated just before threat became kiss. 

Jared groaned, not able to move, to close his eyes, not able to do anything but suck his own oily, fishy taste from deep inside Jensen’s mouth and chase it with his tongue. 

A piercing shriek sounded. The men jerked apart, tugging at clothes and wiping mouths. Jared had been so sure he’d see at least one pair of accusing eyes through a cracked-open door, it was almost a letdown no one was there. Jared ran into the house, Jensen at his heels. It seemed surreal that they’d just been in the kitchen minutes before. He’d swear it had been a decade, or during someone else’s lifetime. 

......

The first thing he’d done was wash his hands.

The scream had only been childish roughhousing, Jensen’s youngest wanting to play with the bigger kids. Jared made certain to keep up the air of harmony with everyone under his roof, no matter what he thought of them personally. At sunset, they broken out a nice Californian pinot and Gen brought out her long-abandoned six-string. He wouldn’t have done it for Jared, but unable to turn down the begging of his kids, Jensen agreed to play and sing. After one song, Jared had to excuse himself, murmuring that he shouldn’t have squeezed in that third mango tart. 

It took him at least a full minute to unlock his jaw. The singing. The kids. The fact that Jensen couldn't seem to stop touching his own chest. This wasn't going to work. 

Gen found him in their bedroom, staring out the window. She wrapped her arms around his waist from behind. “You’re missed down there. They’re going to leave soon, come say goodbye.” Jared turned a look at her, finding she was wearing her press face that had made a thousand fangirls screech in 2010 that she looked like she might be as liable to spit on someone as give them the time of day. It wasn’t for him; Jared knew that. “Don’t let them find out,” was all she said as she headed toward the door. 

“I won't. Whatever they're selling, I don't want it in my house."

"Well... Jensen's selling himself. Right?"

"Yeah. No. It's not that--" 

"Isn't it?" Genevieve sauntered closer again, hips swaying seduction. She would be ravenous tonight. "So then, let me throw something out there. What if _I_ was buying, hm? Is he still selling, then?"

"...W-what...?" This had never entered the arena before, not even a hint. The thought of Gen, his Gen, his wife, being touched by another man, turned on by another man... between him and Jensen, out of her mind, gone... It was like acid to Jared’s sense of balance; he couldn’t deal.

"Yeah, I thought so." She huffed once through her nose, smug not pissed.

"No, I mean, I wouldn’t stop you because..." He snorted. How would he dare, considering what went on in his garage? “Is that... do you want to? Want him?”

“Who doesn’t, right?” Dark brown eyes bore into Jared, seeing and revealing everything. No ready answer came to his lips. 

"Jared. Stop freaking out. I think we both sensed something like this might happen. All I'm saying is... Keep it off your face. And go say goodbye to the Hatfields... I mean the Ackles-es." Of course she wouldn’t use the other name.  

Jared nodded, and turned to his desk. Even he shook his head at the amount of zero's he hand-wrote. 

...

The final five minutes exhausted him more than the entirety of the day. He shook hands with Jensen's parents, picture of the polite host. He even hugged Danneel goodbye. Damned it that didn't weird him out, feeling her breasts against his midsection, full of the knowledge that, hot as she was by any standards, looks-wise, she didn’t give it up to the man who’d promised to love her. 

Gen remained at his side, performing similar goodbyes with last-second cooing over the kids. It was disconcerting that, when she deliberately turned to be able to spear Jared with her glittering eyes, peering over Jensen’s shoulder when she hugged him – fair’s fair – his dick chose that moment to reaffirm its presence. 

Seeing Jensen about to carry his sleeping son out the door was almost more than he could take. It had gone full dark by then, but light streamed from the windows and open doors. Hair and eyelashes limned blue, shadows pronouncing the lines radiating from the outer corners of his eyes, he looked up again, like the patron saint of... something. They already had one of those for lost causes, right? Only, it was Jared who’d embody such an icon. Above, the barest sliver of the waning moon hung yellow-orange. There were no cicadas here, only crickets. Jared stepped in close. "You put your parents on a plane back to Texas. Don't call me again till they're gone," he said in a low voice. 

The tone suggested balking. "My mom's got bad hips, has to go first class." 

"I don't care, I'll pay for that too, or rather, you will. That was underhanded... This..."

"I'm sorry. It's part of the process." 

"What fucking process?" 

"Jensen..." Danneel's voice carried from down the driveway. She could put barbed steel into it, when she wanted. As far as Jared could recall, it was the first time she'd spoken directly to Jensen all day.

"Gotta go." At that moment, Jared decided he hated those wide eyes, that exact color of green, halfway between leaf and emerald. Fuck Jensen and his fucking face and whatever it was about the man that sucked him in, spit him out and now wouldn’t let go of him. Jared nodded and said nothing. When disappointment flooded Jensen’s features, a slight downturn of the mouth, lips pressed thin, lowering lids, Jared's gut churned. 

God-fucking-dammit! 

He held out his hand at the correct angle as if to shake, shifting so the rest wouldn't see the folded slip of paper change hands. That brought subtle relief, and anger to Jared. It wasn't supposed to be this way. How did a man allow himself to get trapped like that? It was bad enough when a woman did, kind of sad and pathetic, but everyone knew that ownership issues prevailed among the masses, no matter the level of income or enlightenment. What would it take to get Jensen to assert himself, to say enough already? If it just – “just”, yeah right – hinged on loss of income and professional standing, that could change in a heartbeat. Hollywood was fickle. If the damage ran deeper...

At the last possible second, he smacked Jensen on the butt, hard enough to bounce off the curve of muscle. Faltering a step, face flaming, Jensen didn't look at him. The rest of the clan sure did. Jared offered a friendly wave, a "Y'all come visit again sometime," which was a lie through his artificially straightened, bleached smile, and, stepping inside, closed the door silent and careful and final.

 

Fin.  
TBC?

**Author's Note:**

> *"Land sakes, honey child" - stereotypical Southern belle-speak  
> *Americana - quintessentially 'wholesome' or iconic American, in this case like a Norman Rockwell painting.  
> *Hatfields and McCoys, long-time feuding hillbillies. Now they even have their own TV show. Of course Gen wouldn't say... McCoy.
> 
> Liked it, hated it, turned you on, want more? You know what to do. Appreciated.


End file.
